


The Haircut

by 20Zvorak17



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fem!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 02:57:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12423681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20Zvorak17/pseuds/20Zvorak17
Summary: Shorter, she repeats every time the hair stylist stops, because she never wants anyone to grab her by the hair again.ORVampires and ghosts and ghouls have grabbed her by the hair and it was why John kept saying she should cut it. She's cutting it now.





	The Haircut

She walked into the hair salon, a wobbly smile and a shiner on her face.  _I just need a cut,_ she tells the stylist who is eyeing her bruises. There's a wait. She crosses her legs and taps her foot, impatient. She wants the hair gone. Her dad would be so pleased, finally, and she wonders if she'd kept it long out of spite. If so, that spite is gone now, drained right out of her. That's not quite accurate-rather, it's irrelevant, overshadowed by the reasons she's cutting it.

Jake had said he loved her hair. He also said he loved her and then **this** so maybe she'd take that with a grain of salt.

_Just a trim?_

_No. Cut it short, please._

He'd grabbed her by the ponytail yesterday when she had tried to get away from him. He yanked hard, a warning, but she'd taken a swing at him anyway. He's a karate master; she knew it wouldn't end well for her but she wasn't about to just take it. He'd gotten angry, really angry, and she'd barely dodged the first swing when he came in with a cross, popping her before she even saw it coming. All she had wanted in that moment was Dean, who would've never let this happen. Once Jake had clocked her once, hard enough to make her head spin, she'd been so disoriented he'd landed every hit after that and, for good measure, a kick or two.

The scissors stopped snipping.  _Like this?_ The stylist had asked when her hair was mid shoulder blade.  _Shorter, please._

She hadn't cried, because Winchesters don't cry. It had been a near thing, though, and if it hadn't been for her pride, her refusal to give him that satisfaction, she might've allowed herself. Afterwards, she'd stumbled to her bathroom, splashed cold water on her face to hide the red and swollen eyes, had produced from the medicine cabinet--

 _Shorter,_ she repeats when the hair is shoulder length.

\--foundation which she had slathered on. Anything not to see it. Anything to pretend it hadn't happened. Sure that he was gone, she marched back down the stairs, heading for her freezer to grab ice. She tells herself that she never should've dated Jake, she should've known better, she was better. Reminds herself that when her kindergarten teacher said, "If a boy is mean to you it means he likes you," Dean had corrected her. "No, Sammy. It means he's stupid and you should spend your time with someone else." The first time he called her a name, the first time he shoved her. It never should've reached this point.

 _Shorter,_ she says again when her locks reach no farther than her chin.  _I don't ever want anyone to be able to grab me by the hair again._


End file.
